“Hot dogs?” I asked.
“Sorry, no.”
“Uh, chicken strips?”
“Sorry.”
“How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I asked. She would have to have that.
“Today is Yellow Day at Camp Ahdoanwanna,” she said. “All the food is yellow.”
Huh? That was weird. It must be another one of those camp traditions. I guess you can explain anything that makes no sense by calling it a tradition.
“Do you like mac and cheese?” Aunt Kim asked me.
“No,” I said. “I can’t stand mac and cheese.”
“No problem,” she replied. “We have lots of other choices. Do you like corn on the cob?”
“Not really,” I replied.
“We also have hard-boiled egg yolks, pineapples, lemons, and yellow oatmeal.”
Yellow oatmeal?
“I’ll have the mac and cheese,” I told her.
“Good choice!” she said, putting a big glop of the stuff on a plate. “Want more? It’s all you can eat.”
“I don’t want to eat any of it,” I said.
“How about a tall glass of yellow bug juice?” she asked.
Oh, man. They have so many bugs here that they put them in the juice.
“Can I have juice without bugs in it?” I asked.
“Sorry,” she replied, “it’s impossible to remove the bugs. I can give you extra bugs if you’d like.”
“I’ll just have water,” I told her.
“Lake water?”
“No!”
I brought my tray to the Owl table. Ryan was eating yellow oatmeal, which looked totally gross. But then, Ryan will eat anything. He had an empty glass in front of him. While he ate, he started putting stuff in the glass—ketchup. Mustard. Mayonnaise. Salt. Pepper.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“I’m inventing a new drink,” Ryan replied as he mixed it up with a spoon.
Ugh. Now I know why they call it the mess hall. We all agreed that Ryan’s drink looked gross.
“That’s probably what they said about Mr. Pepsi when he invented Pepsi,” Ryan said.* “What’s the big deal? These are all ingredients you eat anyway.”
That made sense, I guess. I do like ketchup and mustard and all that other stuff. But still, his drink looked totally disgusting.
“Hey, A.J.,” said Michael. “I’ll give you a quarter if you drink that.”
“I’m not drinking that,” I told him.
“What if I gave you two quarters?” asked Michael.
“No way,” I said.
“I’ll give you a dollar to drink it,” said Neil.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I replied.
“I’ll give you five dollars,” said Candyman.
Hmmmm. Five dollars is a lot of money.
“You mean all I have to do is take a sip?” I asked.
“No,” Candyman replied. “You have to drink the whole thing.”
